In the middle of yesterday afternoon, when the Yard was beginning to recover from the violent interruptions of the morning that had broken its peace, a very small urchin stuck his face around the huge corner of the Widener Library steps. Cars were splashing away in the streets, but inside the Yard traffic consisted only of a few preoccupied pedestrians. The boy surveyed the situation for several minutes, then walked in an absolutely straight line toward a pile of snow in front of the Library. As he bent over to break the crust of ice, he didn't look much higher than the first step. Gradually, bit by bit he succeeded in molding the uncooperative snow into a large ball. Suddenly straightening up, he hurled it with all his force at one of the windows of the Reading Room. The missle only splashed on the thirteenth step. But in an agony of apprehension the boy scurried around the corner of Widener toward the confusion of Harvard Square never to be punished by the University.